I don’t wanna be..

The last few days have been emotionally harrowing and not just because of the passing of the great LKY – to which my family and I have only the deepest respect for.

And yes, we spent a few hours queuing up to see him too 😉

But that’s not why I’ve been tossing and turning and furrowing my brow whenever I’ve got a minute or two to myself. I’ve been reevaluating some of my life’s choices as well as where I’d like to go.

I don’t know what’s come over me to make me so pensive and regretful all of a sudden but I believe that everybody gets these moments. Of wanting to look at what choices that’ve made in their lives that have brought them to this point called “now” and also all the “What if”s and “Maybe”s that coulda, woulda, shoulda..

It all started with bubby’s bout of vomiting. While I know that in reality, vomiting and spitting up is to be expected from a baby of bubby’s age, for some reason, I can’t help but be affected when I see him throwing up.

Apparently, all the tummy bits haven’t fully matured for him yet and it’s to be expected that little curdles will come up every once in a while. I asked for a bit of advice from my mummies group friends, and what I got from all their sage advice, was that it’s more of a cause for alarm if a baby DOESN’T vomit.

Okay, no. But basically the crux of the matter is that all babies do it and I shouldn’t get too shocked when there’s upchuck all over my shirt.

But while everyone is telling me not to worry, bubby not feeling well has really made me like a crap mum because I know that I haven’t been giving my bubby all that much attention.

I know that I need to do a certain amount of work every day, but my bubby relies on me for entertainment, food and to have a clean bottom. So work suffers when I attend to him, to a point that sometimes I let him cry a little before I attend to him.

“Just let me finish this last sentence bubby! I’m coming!” or “What if I take a shower really quickly and then I’ll come back to you okay?”

Until one day when I came running I saw that bubby was practically spewing like a merlion and there was a decent sized puddle in his bouncer, which now he was also sitting in.

Oh, the guilt.

And if I may add on, that was the first time he had properly vomited. It wasn’t a delicate dribble or a dollop of curdles. It was a veritable waterfall.

Of course I had him cleaned up and had the bouncer sunned and made my apologies to the poor fellow and made sure that all trace of the nasty and offensive liquid was eliminated.

But it happened again the next day AND the next and for some mad reason, I thought it was me. After all, my hubs is at work, and I’m the one in charge of him. Besides he’s so far only puked in the morning at different times and when he was in my arms or not, I’m supposed to be doing a better job at nourishing my child right? In the end, it’s my milk he’s upchucking too…

What was I doing wrong?

Reading this on hindsight, it’s reminiscent of what happened in the first few weeks of having bubby around and trying to establish the whole breastfeeding system with him and feeling like crap because he didn’t know how to get my boob in his mouth and everything hurt like crap.

It looks like things never get easier…

Back to story proper though, there was a time last week when he was at the peak of his puking that I felt so ashamed of the job that I was doing that I didn’t want to touch him in case somehow my touch might make him get worse. I didn’t say this out loud to my husband and I’m sure it was a sign of depression for all of those few days that I just didn’t want to have to be responsible for making a wrong decision when it came to my bubby.

Or any decisions for that matter.

I kept passing the baby to the hubs and hoping that somehow the distance would make him better.

Such a lack of confidence right.. 😦

And because of that guilt towards the bub, I wondered what I could do to make things right for him. It shouldn’t have to be a matter of choosing between doing something and taking care of your baby. I don’t want to have to look at my work and think about what doing it would mean for my bubby who’s cooing in a corner for me to pay attention to him, to hug him and to play with him..

I want to be able to give him the attention that he deserves, whether it’s reading him a story or putting on silly faces and using funny voices to talk to him. Sometimes even looking him in the eyes is enough to keep him amused. But with work at the back of my mind, I can’t seem to put things aside..

This week I’ve truly contemplated being a stay at home mum (SAHM) so that I can give my bub the love and attention and entertainment that he deserves.

It’s not the easiest of all decisions, but I think I’m at the crossroads now and that I need to figure this out.

The matter of fact here is that money makes the world go round. We need money to make sure that the baby is being taken care of. But in order to make money, we need to not take care of the baby and let somebody else do it.

It’s a disgusting cycle of not being able to have your cake and eat it too.

I’m not going to lie. I’ve had reservations about my work for the longest time already, it was never something that I’ve felt… was right. But I was always able to scrape by enough to stick around. It’s only now when I have a real reason for giving up being a runner in the form of my child who needs me during his tender years that I need to put my foot down and decide.

I don’t think that I’m much of a office-going mum. I’m qualified enough to work and provide for myself and there WAS a time when I was earning a pretty decent salary. But I’ve never been one for long hours and goal-setting and the whole corporate lifestyle. I’ve always much preferred being left to my own devices and working on my own time and target.

Hence being a sales agent of sorts and trying out a semi working at home arrangement. Being a Working At Home Mum (WAHM) suited me for a while I guess but with some new requirements and quotas that have been put in place for the work that I do, I worry about how I’m going to do my part in contributing to the family coffers.

I don’t want to treat being at home for the bubby as a way out of having to do “work” because being a stay at home mum is a whole different type of work anyway. I’m seriously going to have to come up with lessons plans and figure out how to make the most of my time with the bub including ensuring he gets a good amount of educational stimulants in due time.

And as I’ve said, having a brain that’s split into 2, makes it feel as if I’m barely doing enough on both ends as it is.

The biggest problem now is that I have no idea how we’re going to afford for me not to work… Being self-employed I chose to take my pregnancy slowly and in turn, I barely earned during the period – something that I think we are suffering for now. To be a stay at home mum and not earn anything at all…

We won’t be paupers, but one man down on the work front is as good as condemning my family to a life worse off than it could be.

After all that I’ve been through, I have no idea what’s come over me and why there is a sudden fear of everything. And such a desperation for change which up to this point, whatever benefits to come of this undecided change still remain to be seen.

Is spending that time with my baby worth more than the money that I could earn?

Should I just keep things as a status quo?

Anyway I’ve managed to get this far, haven’t I?

One thing is for sure though. The reason I’m doing all this putting myself through these scenarios is because I want the best for my son. This uncertainty stems from the fact that I don’t know if I’m doing enough for the person that I want to be and have the best for. And the least I can do is admit that that’s really where I need to build the confidence.

So I just have to do whatever I have to do in order to make sure I am the best I can be for my bub and take things as it comes. For the time being, I just do what I can and pray on what doors may open for me and trust that God has seen my dilemma and will guide me forward from where I am now.

Few more weeks left to the end of my supposed maternity period anyway and then I’ll really start to worry about things then ….